Captain America - The Halloween Soldier
by Oxnate
Summary: Challenge response. They saved the world but lost a hero in the process. Where do you go to find a new hero?
1. Chapter 1

Captain America – The Halloween Soldier

by Oxnate

Disclaimer: Do not own Buffy or Captain America.

Summary: Challenge response. They saved the world but lost a hero in the process. Where do you go to find a new hero?

Challenge from AlecMcDowell: _After Xander dresses as his hero Captain America for Halloween, one important thing sticks around- his memory of where the plane went down. With the help of a locator spell and a trip to the Arctic Xander brings Steve Rogers out of the ice more than a decade before Tony Stark becomes Iron Man. With nowhere else to go Steve returns to Sunnydale to adjust to the modern world and help the Scoobies fight demons. _

_-SHIELD cannot be aware Captain America is free until after Iron Man 1 occurs. _

_-Steve will remember the events of Halloween _

_-Can take place after season 2, when Buffy is missing or after Graduation._

_-If Xander does or does not retain any Super Soldier abilities is up to the author, though having a second, secret ally with the same skills could be handy for Steve when he eventually comes to SHIELD's attention._

_-Xander and Steve can either develop a brotherly relationship or a romantic, I am not opposed to slash._ (I don't do slash though I think there will be some funny innuendo in this one)

* * *

Chapter 1. Teaser

A group of very beat up looking teens, and one adult who looked like he lost a fight with a can of whoopass, met in the grassy area at the front of Sunnydale high school. "Willow, are you sure you should be out of bed?" Giles, the adult in the group, asked. It was a valid question as her boyfriend, Oz, was pushing her in a wheelchair.

Willow looked up from said wheelchair. "Look who's talking."

"Yes." Giles gave a wry smile and shrugged. Given his druthers, all of them deserved at least a week off after what they'd just done. Instead, they were all required to get up early the next day and attend school/work as if it were any other day.

"Any word?" Cordelia asked. Everyone knew what she was talking about.

"You guys haven't seen her either?" Xander confirmed. He was very worried about their friend. But memories from Halloween this past year told him that soldiers in a war like this sometimes fell. He was more worried about the Hellmouth. Kendra was dead, both Angel and Buffy were missing. There was now no Big Gun to cover the Hellmouth. Any creature of darkness that was strong enough could just waltz right in and open it up. Then, hello Hell-on-Earth.

"No." Willow said sadly.

"But we know the world didn't end, 'cause... check it out." Oz pointed out that the world was still spinning when it might not have been had Buffy lost.

"Well, we, uh... we went back to the mansion. I- it was empty, um... and Acathla was, was... dormant." Giles told them what he knew for sure. Anything else was speculation at this point.

"I think the spell worked. I felt something go through me." Willow said with hope. Willow happened to be a witch who had recently performed a curse to put a vampire's soul back into his body. She did this for her best friend, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so she could have her vampiric boyfriend back. That she did this while in the hospital mere hours after waking up from a coma is either amazing or terrifying, depending on your point of view.

"Plus the Orb did that cool glow thing." Cordelia added.

"Well, maybe it wasn't in time. Maybe she had to kill him before the cure could work." Xander was trying hard not to hope for that outcome and failing.

"Well, then, she'd wanna be alone, I guess." Oz was, as ever, the epitome of the understatement.

"Or maybe Angel _was_ saved, and they want to be alone together." where her boyfriend went for understatement and sarcasm, Willow was the very beacon of hope.

"Perhaps." Giles hedged. He was also hoping that Angel was no more, but was a bit more delicate in expressing those views.

"Well, she's gotta show up sooner or later. We still have school." Cordelia pointed out. She was a bit miffed that Buffy got to skip a day while the rest of them all had to attend. Willow was here in a wheelchair even.

"Yeah. She'll be here in a while." Alright, at this point we're going to have to assume that someone at the hospital replaced Willow's morphine drip with liquid hope. It's the only explanation that makes sense.

They all turned and headed into the school. Across the street, the heroine in question watched them as they headed off without her. She leaned back behind the tree that was hiding her again when Xander stopped and looked back across the street at her. No, not at her. There's no way he could see her, right? In the shade, behind a tree, and across the street. Just in her general direction. Maybe he could sense her watching him, or maybe this is just the most likely spot for a Slayer to eavesdrop. Either way, she could see him sigh before he turned and walked back inside.

Buffy also turned and started walking towards the Greyhound station.

From the shadow of the doorway, where even a Slayer's excellent vision couldn't penetrate with the sun in her eyes, Xander Harris watched as his hero walked away from the fight. He didn't try to stop her. At some point, every soldier reaches a point where he or she just can't take it any more. One of those points is often the losing of a good friend and/or lover. _Where do you go to find a new hero?_ he wondered. Except he already knew where to find a hero. Thanks to Halloween, he knew where one was 'just chilling', so to speak. Waiting for the time to be right to take up the fight again.

Two more weeks. One week of school and then finals. Then he would be free. He had a little bit of money saved up. What it was for depended on his mood. Sometimes it was for a trip out of here, sometimes it was for an apartment in LA, sometimes it was to start his own machine shop. But it looked like the decision had been made for him and it looked like he might be using it for a trip. He heard the arctic circle was nice this time of year.

(Cue the opening credits.)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

A/N: Thank you to Theo (Starway Man) for his help working out a minor plot hole in this chapter. In fact, I didn't even get to what I had planned for Chapter 2 as I got side tracked. Hope you guys don't mind the slow build too much. Also... WOW! I don't think I've ever gotten such an awesome response to a teaser chapter before. Either I'm getting better as a writer or you guys really like the Captain. Yeah, I'm guessing it's probably the Captain.

* * *

The life savings of a high school kid do not amount to much no matter how hard he has worked. But luckily travel by bus was relatively cheap. Just $150 bucks got him from LA to New York. It also took 3 days, but airlines just weren't willing to sell a ticket to an unaccompanied minor. The buses probably weren't either, but Xander had already learned not to mention that bit by the time he bought his bus ticket.

New York just felt... bigger wasn't the right word. Neither was smaller. Tighter. Sunnydale was a small town but it had Los Angeles nearby. Up until last year, he'd gotten at least two trips to some attraction in LA per summer; once with Willow's parents and once with Jesse's. But LA was much more spread out than New York was. But that was good for Xander, he wasn't swimming in cash and couldn't afford to throw money away on a cab when he could walk. Or take the subway.

"More compact!" he said to himself as he finally remembered the word he was looking for. He looked around sheepishly for the stares of scorn but none came. Possibly because everyone was busy patently ignoring everyone around themselves. Or maybe it was because there were two other crazy people already talking to themselves far longer and louder than Xander had.

Either way, Xander arrived at the docks and set about finding a ship going to Greenland. There was no way he'd ever be able to get a plane ticket there, but he was hoping that there were some people on the docks willing to look the other way and give him a ride despite his age. The docks were a lot more open and airy than he'd been expecting. Sunnydale had docks too but he never dared go down there even in daylight without Buffy.

After asking around for a bit, Xander found a cargo ship that was going to Greenland. However the guy asked his age. Xander lied and told him he was 18 but the guy looked over at the Port Authority building and told him to try his luck in Brooklyn. So Xander trudged across the aptly named Brooklyn Bridge. This at least afforded him a distant view of the Statue of Liberty across the bay. He belatedly wished for a camera so that he could prove that he at least got this close once.

"Which city, kid?" the new guy he was talking to asked in reply to his question if he was going to Greenland. Xander didn't know if he was the captain or just a spokesman. At Xander's blank look he went on. "There are a bunch of cities in Greenland, which one you going to?"

"Uh, any, I suppose. I'm trying to get to the eastern part of the country, preferably more northerly."

The man blinked a bit as if trying to process that information. "Kid, there ain't nothing there. There's a giant sheet of ice that nothing lives on. So useless they made it the world's biggest National Park. No one lives there."

"I've got a friend. Kind of a recluse, hasn't been out in a while. But he wants me to visit. So can you help me?" That was actually pretty close to the truth.

The man gave a snort at Xander's story. "Sorry, kid. Don't know any ships here that visit the eastern side. Try dock 42 though. Look for a name you can't pronounce. They're going back to Iceland. Might be able to get a ride to the east side once you're there."

Xander thanked the man and headed off.

* * *

The next man, Jón Guðmundsson, was much friendlier. He had shoulder length, lanky, white hair that might have once been blond. Yes he was going to Iceland and had a spare cabin. Xander could use it for $200, or $100 if he brought his own food. Xander opted for the pricier option. His large bag was mostly filled with MREs for his trek and he didn't want to use them until he was out on the ice.

As Xander reached in for his money, he heard the man take a sharp breath. Looking down, he saw that one of his spare stakes had popped up. "Yeah... that's for my tent." it sounded lame even as he was saying it.

"You have no tent." Jón observed.

"I'm going to buy one." Xander insisted.

Jón looked around them then tilted his head back towards his ship. "Come." He ignored the proffered money. He led Xander up the gangplank and onto the ship. He then led the way to a small cabin. He turned to face Xander, suddenly holding a huge dagger in his hand.

Xander jumped back in a flash and had his stake poised and ready for the man to attack.

Jón looked a little a little surprised. "Oh! My apologies, Xander." he laid the knife on a desk and turned it so the handle faced Xander. "I had forgotten that we are still in America, where muggings are so common. You must have thought me to rob you!" he laughed. "No, I merely wished to show you that you are not alone." He stepped back and waved towards the knife, clearly indicating that Xander was supposed to look at and/or handle the knife.

Xander tucked his stake away and picked up the knife. It was very beautifully made and absolutely huge, just shy of being called a sword but far too light. The blade was longer than his forearm and intricately engraved. It was nice, but Xander didn't see what the big deal was. Xander looked up at Jón who was practically dancing on his toes.

"You see? You are not so alone." Jón said.

"It's a very nice knife." Xander said diplomatically.

Jón's face fell just a little. "You do not recognize?" He sighed. "I had hoped one such as you would recognize Dwarfen-made weapons."

"You hired a little person to make that for you?" Xander asked, confused.

"Not small human. A dwarf. One of the Huldufólk. Hidden People."

* * *

Jón shared a few stories about elves and dwarfs and eventually Xander felt obliged to share a few stories about vampires and the Hellmouth.

"You have a Hellmouth where you grew up?" Jón asked.

"You know about Hellmouths?" Xander replied. Jón was the first person outside of Sunnydale who also knew about them. Granted, he didn't go around saying the word for fear he might get locked away as a loon.

"Depending on whom you ask, Icelanders are either very knowledgeable about the supernatural or terribly silly and superstitious." Jón said with a smile on his face. "Also, our island has a Hellmouth, Hekla. Outsiders know it simply as a volcano, but the rest of us know better. It is the gateway to Hell. Every couple hundred years, someone tries to open it. The effort usually blows up in their face." He laughed at his own joke then stood up. "Forgive me, it is nearly time for us to launch. We will talk later, yes?"

* * *

Xander was content to let Jón do most of the talking on the trip. Jón explained about the various hidden races in Iceland. Most of them weren't aggressive unless provoked and all except Trolls were known to be helpful if you were kind to them. Which was where Jón got his knife from. He'd done a favor for a dwarf and gotten a very nice knife as a reward.

"I've never heard of a town actually being built on a Hellmouth before." Jón said warningly. "When you get home, it would be good to research who built it and why. Because there _must_ be a why for someone to do something so foolish."

They sat in silence for sometime.

Finally Jón spoke. "Do you wish to tell me the true reason for your journey? Perhaps I can help you?"

Xander explained that via a spell, he received memories of a man who crashed in Greenland during WW2. He didn't tell them that he was looking for Captain America or that he felt he could be revived.

"I see. I will have to speak to the elders when we get back and we shall see if we can work out a deal. Before I do, I must clarify. You are a vampire hunter, yes? I had guessed as much from the stake and crosses in your bag."

"I've killed a few." Xander nodded. Non-commitment was the way to go. Saying no might leave him stranded in Iceland. Saying he was a great hunter might put him up against an impossible foe and leave him dead in Iceland. Neither of which would help Steve.

* * *

The ship they were on had to make a few stops at small towns (and calling them towns was being generous in Xander's opinion) to drop off supplies before they made their final stop in Reykjavík.

After refusing Xander's payment one last time, Jón led Xander to a car where he drove them to what looked like an apartment building. Inside, Jón left Xander alone to talk animatedly in Icelandic with a group of older men.

Finally the group approached him. One of the older men spoke in very good English. "Jón tells us you're a vampire hunter. We were wondering if one so brave would be willing to do us a favor?"

"Maybe. But I gotta tell you, I don't know anything about killing elves or trolls." Xander said.

Most of the men looked slightly shocked. The spokesperson just smiled. "And we do not wish you to kill any of our Hidden Folk. They are few enough in number as it is. And though we do not wish him dead, there is a particular troll that has been causing trouble in the city of Ísafjörður. Ísafjörður is one of our most prosperous and successful towns in Iceland. Magic was no small part of getting it going, in particular, a magical net helped the town increase its fishing production and thrive. But that net was lost to us several years ago and now lies in the hands of a troll. Since the loss of the net the town has been shrinking as people leave for other oportunities. We wish you to steal back the net from this troll."

"That's it?" Xander asked, surprised.

"If it were easy, we could have found a local to do it. And the real cost will be that you will greatly anger the troll. So much that it won't be safe for you to set foot on Iceland ever again. Which is why we need a foreigner."

"And in exchange?"

"We will fund and supply your expedition." the man said. "The man you search for is on the ice sheet, yes? How were you planning on getting to him?"

Xander shrugged. "Dog sled team if I could find one. Skis if I couldn't." He'd been on Tony's Nordic Track a few times. More than Tony ever had. Cross country skiing wasn't so bad.

There was stifled laughter throughout the group. "I'm afraid a dogsled team wouldn't make it terribly far without food caches. And the crash site would have to be very near the edge of the ice to be able to make it on skis. We can offer you a snowcat instead. Able to travel 50 miles in an hour rather than 50 miles in a day. As well as food, water, fuel, and other supplies. And then a ride back to the states once you've found your man. As I said, it will have to be a direct trip back as you will not be able to set foot in Iceland ever again."

Xander didn't have to think long, this trip had turned out to be a whole lot more difficult than he had ever imagined and this much help in exchange for stealing a net was a godsend. "Where do you want me to deliver it once I've gotten it?"

"Jón will show you where."

* * *

Ísafjörður was not very big. And it was very low to the water, built on what was practically a sandbar. It looked like the town would be wiped off the map every high tide or the smallest storm. And yet Jón said it had been there for over a thousand years. Longer than America had been around, so who was he to judge?

Jón led him to a yellow house and took him inside. In the middle of the living room was a board where the shadow of the net could still be seen.

"So this is the brave warrior you've recruited to get us back our net. We're very grateful. Not every man is willing to risk the wrath of the Troll Nation for strangers."

"Yeah, I guess that's why I'm leaving right afterword." Xander shrugged. A look passed between the other men, but passed Xander by entirely.

"Well, I suspect you'd like to know where to find that net!" Jón said a little too cheerfully.

The other man fetched a topo map and laid it on his kitchen table. "Here is the troll's cave." he pointed. "We'll get you a four-wheeler to drive yourself there. We recommend killing the engine a good distance away and pushing it the rest of the way. If that troll is on your tail, you'll be glad you did."

Xander relaxed just a bit. Those were some impressively steep cliffs behind the town and he was glad he wouldn't have to walk the whole way there and run the whole way back. They spent another hour discussing logistics. The net would be safe once it was inside the house, wards similar to the one that worked on vampires would keep the trolls out. And Jón's ship would be ready and waiting for him when he got back.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

Xander was informed of everything that the Icelanders could think of concerning trolls. The two facts that stuck out the most was that trolls could turn to stone in the sun – but not always and no one knew when a troll might not turn. Also that they really liked shiny objects (and weren't too bright – okay, that was like four facts). That knowledge in hand, Xander came up with a plan. It would have been a simpler plan if he had kept Captain America's powers along with his memories, then he could have simply beaten the troll into the ground and been done with it. Instead, he had to get tricky. They went to the bank and Jón withdrew a very large bag of coins for him. Mostly krónur, but also a few foreign coins that tourists had brought in. Xander then said goodbye and drove off on his ATV.

He did as the elders suggested and stopped more than a mile from the cave he was to enter. He took several handfulls of coins and chucked them in every direction. He then started pushing his ATV towards the cave while also taking the time to leave a path of coins behind him. He stopped dropping coins while still short of the cave itself and started pushing his ATV up the hill behind the cave. It was tough, but the ATV was light and was soon in place. Xander then finished his trail of coins right up to the mouth of the cave. He saved a couple handfuls then reinforced the area of the trail closest to the cave. He saved one krónur as a souvenir and chucked the rest of the coins into the dark cave as hard as he could.

Then he climbed back up to his ATV and took a nap.

* * *

The land of the midnight sun. On the summer solstice, anywhere north of the polar circle, the sun will never set. Luckily for Xander, it wasn't the summer solstice yet, but he still had to deal with 19 hour days in a time zone very different from the one his body was used to. Sleep didn't come easily. Luckily wakefulness came very easily when he heard a shuffling sound below him once the sun had finally set. He crawled over the crest of the hill and watched by moonlight as the most butt-ugly thing he'd ever seen collected his coins in a large basket.

Xander sat on his ATV for lack of anything else to sit on while he waited patiently for the troll to leave the area. He wasn't _too_ worried about time. After all, he'd left a trail almost a mile long. If he was lucky, the troll would get caught out and turn to stone. Once he was sure it was gone, he walked quietly down to the cave entrance. He switched on the headlamp he'd requested. It had a red filter both to preserve his night vision and to keep from alerting the troll if it looked back and saw its cave glowing.

After that, it wasn't too hard. The cave wasn't terribly complex and he made only a few wrong turns. Eventually, he found a room that looked almost human. The net was easy to spot. It was glowing – bathing the room in a soft, golden light. Xander picked it up.

"Put that back." came the inhuman growl behind him.

Uh-oh. Apparently the red filter wasn't enough, either that or something else had caused the troll to turn back, because there was no way he was done picking up all the coins. Xander turned around slowly. In front of him stood a creature over 7 feet tall, and probably would have been taller except that's all the taller the room was. He was dressed in rags, his overly large nose looked like it was leaking from a sore. Xander hoped it wasn't contagious to humans because judging by the smell, this guy hadn't bathed in years, if ever. He also looked very strong, and he wasn't talking about his smell.

"Sorry buddy. You don't get to steal people's nets and get away with it. So why don't you just back off and nobody gets hurt." Xander bluffed.

"I didn't steal it." the troll stated. "You're from that village!" he realized. "If they didn't want to lose their net, then they shouldn't have bet it in the first place."

Oh. That put things in a whole new perspective. The city hadn't lost it as in having it stolen. They lost it gambling with trolls, apparently. Could he steal from this troll for the people who'd misled him? Even if they promised to help him get Captain America back? Suddenly he missed Sunnydale and the easy morals of 'See Demon, Slay Demon'. Xander put the net back on the hooks... for now.

"They didn't tell me that part." he said. The troll visibly relaxed and no longer looked ready to kill him at a moment's notice. "But tell you what, give me a chance to win it back?"

"With what as your stake, puny human?" the troll asked.

Xander looked at the basket of coins the troll had collected way too fast. "How about another bag of coins like that?"

"Not enough!" the troll roared.

"Two bags?"

"Three bags. And not one coin less!" the troll demanded.

"Hmm. How much would it cost to _buy_ the net then?" Xander wondered out loud.

"Buy?"

"Buy, trade, barter, swap. I give you so many bags of coins and you give me the net." Xander tried to explain.

"Ten!" the troll said proudly, sure than no human could come up with so many coins.

"Done." Xander said.

The troll opened his eyes very wide in surprise. He had been sure that no one short of a king could get together so many coins. "By tomorrow night!" he added.

Xander groaned. That might be a deal breaker. He wasn't sure there were that many coins in all of Ísafjörður. And he had no idea if he could get that many by then. But he'd try. "I'll do my best. I'll see you tomorrow night."

With that, the troll let him pass.

* * *

"You need what?" Jón asked/shouted.

"Ten bags, just as full as the last one." Xander repeated. "I don't think denominations matter, just the number of coins."

"I don't think there are that many coins in all of Ísafjörður." Jón breathed. "Perhaps if we emptied every bank in Iceland we would have enough."

"How many coins were in that last bag." Xander prompted. Despair wasn't going to help anyone.

"Somewhere near 2,000. But that pretty much cleaned out the bank. They won't get another shipment of coins for at least three days."

"What about Reykjavík?" Xander asked.

"Where do you think the replacement coins are coming from?" Jón asked in reply. "It is treasury, so there is no hurrying it. And it won't be ten bags when it comes. Only one, maybe two."

A woman came by and asked Jón something in Icelandic. He answered in English. "This young man has negotiated with the troll for the return of our net. At a very reasonable price. Ten bags of coins, any denomination, but they have to be very large bags. Unfortunately, the bank doesn't have enough coins."

"For the net? How many coins they need?" she asked.

"Ten bags full." Jón said. He then presumably said the same thing in Icelandic.

"Yes, heard you. How many bags have they given you?" she asked.

"None. There are not enough coins." Jón said.

The woman stormed over to the teller and started speaking quickly in Icelandic Xander couldn't follow. She did, however, get one bag of the same size that Xander had used yesterday. She brought it over to their table and dumped out her purse on it. She then pulled all the coins from the mess. She scraped them into the bag and the rest of her junk back into her purse.

She then went around to all the customers in the bank. Xander was able to catch one word being repeated. "Nettó." He could easily guess the meaning of that word. And when they learned what it was for, people eagerly gave up whatever change they had on them. When she was done with the customers, she turned on the tellers. They also emptied their purses, and with a nod from their manager, started recording the withdrawal of every coin in their drawers.

The manager also came out with a full bag of coins and one that was mostly empty. He placed them on their table. "Every coin in bank." he said in broken English.

Xander was very touched. More by the generosity of the customers and tellers than the bank, but still. Too bad it wouldn't be enough. Even if they mugged every customer that came in today. And here came another one. She spoke in Icelandic before depositing her own contribution. But she didn't go to the tellers then, she just walked out.

Jón translated. "One of the customers that left met her on the street and told her what was going on. She only came in to make her donation."

* * *

Very shortly, the crowd started building and the collection moved outside. People of all shapes and sizes came to donate. Little children emptied their piggy banks. Old women emptied jars of coins that Xander hoped wasn't their life savings. People from nearby towns came by car and even by boat just to donate to the cause of getting their net back.

Xander was struck by all the boats arriving. It triggered a memory, he wasn't sure if it was his from school or Steve's, of the Dunkirk Armada. In WW2, French and British troops were retreating from the Nazi onslaught. The British troops went north to Dunkirk where 340,000 men were trapped by the Germans and about to be annihilated unless a rescue mission could be launched. Unfortunately, the Britons lacked enough landing craft at the time to pick the men up from the beach. The call went out for help, and the British people answered loudly and enthusiastically. These were not soldiers. These were civilians; fisherman, bankers, yachtsmen. Every variety of boat imaginable poured out of the Thames River to make their way across the Channel to rescue the beleaguered troops. They braved shelling, machine guns from fighter planes, and German dive bombers to rescue their fellow countrymen.

Granted, these people weren't facing death here, though one woman did twist her ankle. But the sense of being there, of doing everything you could to help your neighbors, brought tears to Xander's eyes.

After a couple of hours, most of the town had visited as well as representatives of every nearby smaller town. It was close but they had their ten bags. They made sure that each was fully full, after all that sacrifice, it wouldn't do to have the troll say a bag was short and renege on the deal. The very last coin to go in the bags was the single krónur Xander had been saving as his own souvenir.

Xander and Jón hauled the bags to Xander's ATV watched over by a guard. It wasn't until their second trip, when the shocks on the machine were getting quite low that Xander asked, "What's the weight limit on this thing?" Cause the bags were heavy. Probably close to 40 pounds each.

And that was how Xander got a jeep for the return trip.

* * *

The troll growled in annoyance. The man had fulfilled his bargain and come back with the coins he had asked for. "You are truly a great king of Ísland, King Xander." he grudgingly allowed.

"Huh? Oh. I'm not king of Iceland. King of the Cretins of California, but I'm a long ways from my kingdom right now." Xander joked.

"Then what are you doing here?" the troll asked.

"My uh, kingdom is in trouble. I'm not much of a fighter, but I know of a great hero frozen in ice in Greenland. But the journey is tough, and I'll need a lot of support to get him and revive him. The net is their price."

"Then I, Gjøl Damsson, bestow upon you, Xander King of the Cretins of California, the net Hnot, woven by the elf, Iðunn."

"Err, thank you." Xander was unsure of the words he was supposed to use for such a formal transference. He took the proffered net from the troll. It glowed brighter briefly before settling back down to a dull, golden glow.

"Well, thanks. Be seeing you." Xander said as he started walking off with his new net thrown over his shoulder.

The troll waited until King Xander was truly gone before speaking. "You may indeed, King Xander."

* * *

"I, Xander, King of the Cretins of California, bestow the net Hnot, woven by the elf, Iðunn, upon the people of Ísafjörður." Xander said formally as he handed over the net. The sun was shining so it was harder to tell if there was any glow this time.

"We thank you." Jón said. "But why did you call yourself that?"

Xander shrugged. "I didn't mean to. But that's what the troll referred to me as when he handed it over. It was just kind of a joke." The two men in the room frowned at each other. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No! No." Jón said a little too quickly.

"The truth now. I know the troll didn't steal the net." Xander said with just a slight warning tone. He understood why they misled him, but it didn't mean he liked it. Even if he didn't like it, he still needed their help to get the captain and wasn't willing to risk that.

"We never said he did. We lost it to a dwarf many years ago, but it didn't start negatively affecting our town until _he_ lost it to the troll." Jón defended.

"And the title?" Xander wouldn't be sidetracked.

"Magical creatures will treat you differently with such a title. There may be... expectations." Jón explained. "But come. There will be time to explain more on ship. We should not tarry on land. That you fulfilled the troll's demands for a trade will not make him terribly less displeased with you than had you stolen it."

* * *

The Snowcat they were offloading for him looked to Xander like someone put a small, glass room on top of a tank. If he had been a skier, he probably would have recognized it as one of the machines that groomed ski trails.

"You have approximately two more months before summer is over and you will have to cease your search." Jón warned. "You have two external fuel tanks. Leave the empty one here and run this flag up this pole. We will see it when we pass by and dispatch a crew to refill it for you. You can take the other one with you out onto the ice. You leave it behind to save on weight and pick it up on your way back. You pick up the new full one and drop off the new empty one. You understand?"

Xander nodded.

"Just like fuel. These have food. You take one and leave empty behind. It gets filled when the fuel does." Jón waved to the Snowcat itself. "This is self contained. Water for sink and shower gets filtered and reused. If it gets low, just add some snow. It even has a small washer and dryer for your clothes. Same machine does both."

One of the crew said something in Icelandic.

Jón translated. "He says water heater is sensitive, gets very hot if you're not careful. But it is tankless heater. Hot water lasts for as long as you have water." Jón hesitated and waved everyone back to the launch waiting to take everyone except Xander back to the larger ship. His knife was in his hand again. Xander hadn't even seen him draw it. He was better than even Buffy with her drawing stakes out of thin air.

"This is Broddur." Jón said.

Well, if Nettó meant Net, maybe... "Let me guess, it means 'brother'?"

Jón chuckled. "No. It means Sting."

"Tell me it glows blue when orcs are around." Xander begged.

"No, but it does glow a bit in complete darkness." Jón said. "Or perhaps I am always surrounded by orcs whenever it is dark." he cleared his throat. "I, Jón Guðmundsson, bestow the sword Broddur, made by the dwarf Sindri, upon Xander, King of the Cretins of California."

This time, even in broad daylight, Xander could clearly see the flash of light when the small sword was handed over.

"I think he likes you." Jón have a small laugh. "He will always be with you. Simply think it and he will be in your hand."

Which explained to Xander how Jón had been so quick on the draw. Xander thanked him profusely and watched him get in the boat and push off before he, himself set of on his journey.

* * *

"You gave him Broddur? I hope you know what you were doing."

"I think I do. I am too old to go on any more adventures. And he will certainly need the help. We did make him the enemy of the Troll Nation, after all."

"We have been their enemy long enough. It is someone else's turn now." the old man sank wearily into an overstuffed chair.

* * *

A/N: why does an Icelandic troll speak English? The same reason every alien in the galaxy does.

Also, I really wanted to do a Troll Fight! But season 2 Xander kept getting his butt kicked. It wasn't pretty. Gjøl Damsson is in tribute to the original maker of the Troll dolls. The rest is more or less from Icelandic mythology.

A/N: The Dunkirk Armada is was a very real event from WW2 which I had to downplay because the actual event was so amazing, people would think I made it up. If you read the accounts and don't have tears in your eyes and shivers down your spine, you aren't human.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4.

Jón had warned Xander to drive slowly, especially when going over hills where he couldn't see far, because in the summer cracks could open up in the ice very quickly – some of them big enough and deep enough to swallow him and his Snowcat whole. No one would ever find his body then.

Xander Harris had gone as Captain America last Halloween. Now normally, nothing much would come of something like that, perhaps some teasing or compliments depending on who saw him. But when a spell turned everyone into their costumes, Xander was left two very special things. One was a complete set of memories of Steven Rogers, and the other was a shield made of Vibranium. Which, while awesome, did him absolutely no good. He wasn't strong or fast enough to wield it correctly, and if he tried to sell it, there would be some pointed questions about where he got it. Actually, trying to wield it or showing it to anyone would probably produce the same questions he wasn't interested in answering.

The memories were useful right now for many reasons. Firstly in that Steve Rogers received some very intense training even before becoming Captain America. That training included everything an army officer would ever need to know, including leadership, tactics, logistics, hand to hand fighting, weapons, and how to navigate using a variety of instruments. That training and those memories allowed Xander to very carefully plot the GPS coordinates of the place Steve Rogers had gone down in his plane onto a map and from there transfer that into a GPS device in the Snowcat that would take him to Captain America's final resting place.

The second thing it did was let Xander Harris know without a shadow of a doubt that Steve Rogers was alive under that ice.

* * *

Xander followed the advice he was given and drove carefully to the place marked on his GPS. It was a good thing too as he only narrowly avoided a huge fissure that surely would have killed him had he been going faster. As it was, he had to go several miles around it before he found a place were the gap was less than a foot wide and safely crossable.

Three days later his GPS beeped and Xander let off the throttle and killed the engine. He looked around at the barren wasteland around him, there was no sign of any plane anywhere. He wasn't surprised by that, he knew it would probably still be buried or someone else would have found it already. Everything was so bright, even with his goggles on. He was glad those had been included with the Snowcat. He stood up and stretched. He was exhausted and checked his watch. It was very late even though the sun looked like it was only just beginning to set. Night time tonight would only be a few hours. He settled himself on the small bed in the Snowcat and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

After a refreshing sleep, Xander set to work digging. Xander didn't just head up to the arctic without doing at least a little research first. Research into ice cutting led him to ice harvesting. Ice harvesting was a winter occupation where people would collect surface ice from lakes and rivers for storage in ice houses as a pre-refrigeration cooling method. However, ice harvesting had usually been done when there was only a foot of ice on the water. Xander had hundreds of feet of ice below him. But he also had a plan.

He started with the auger. He drilled four holes as deep as they would go. Next, he used the chainsaw to connect them. He pounded some eyelets into the ice then he used a remote-controlled winch on the Snowcat to pull the block of ice out of the hole.

Ahem.

Then he used the winch to pull the block of ice out of the hole.

_Then he used the winch to pull the block of ice out of the hole!_ What the hell?

Oh.

He'd forgotten about that whole 'bottom edge' thing that blocks of ice had. No matter. Xander re-cut his blocks with the chainsaw. This time, he angled the saw inwards so that the cuts met in the middle. This time the winch pulled out a pyramid shaped block easily.

Starting from that first block, Xander then started cutting eight more blocks around that first one. After which, he was left with a very uneven hole in the ice. Using the auger again, he drilled down in the center of each of the holes. He was kind of hoping he'd hit something, but only found more ice. He then repeated the process, with the center of each of the nine holes forming the corners for four deeper holes. And then those four holes forming the corners for a final deepest hole. He then used the auger to drill as deeply as it would go. And... nothing.

He climbed out.

He wasn't quite sure what to do then. He'd really been hoping that the plane would be near the surface and easy to find. In fact, it wouldn't be a stretch to say he was hoping he'd just 'magically' find the plane. He wondered if he should continue to dig here or move on and dig a new hole.

* * *

Xander wondered who's influence it was, Willow's or Rogers', that made him map out a logical and efficient way to find the plane. In the end, he divided the area up into a grid. He then measured out a distance that would allow him to search efficiently but wouldn't allow him to miss the plane, assuming it was still close to being in one piece. If it wasn't, he'd have to refine his search later. Then, just like his first hole, he started creating eight more test holes. For these new holes, he was much more focused on digging as deep as he could while still being able to climb back out. He'd then auger that hole. Finding nothing, he'd move on.

It was a nice day on the arctic circle. The sun was out, it was 50°, and Xander was doing hard physical labor. His coat and then his shirt had come off first. After slathering on some sunscreen – his inner Willow insisted, just like being out on liquid water, snow reflected sunlight back at you and caused you to burn faster than normal – he also took off his hat. And then, well, there was no one around for miles, so the pants went next. He hadn't brought any shorts so he just worked in his boxers, goggles, and boots. Boots that were quickly soaking wet. Between the slushy surface ice melting with the heat of the day, ice chips from the chainsaw and the auger melting on his legs and running down into his boots, and his feet sweating from all the work; his feet squished with every step.

It was the seventh test hole where his auger ground against metal.

Xander then repeated his field clearing technique from the first hole to clear a large amount of ice from the area he was about to be working in. The plane ended up being pretty deep so he had to make it twice as big so he'd have steps of a sort so he could get back out again when he was done. Next he used an old fashioned spade to dig the ice off the plane. He had to throw it pretty high to get it to clear the lip of the hole he was in. Finally, he unpacked a blowtorch. He didn't know why it was in the Snowcat, but he was glad it was.

He'd been so intent on his cutting that he was almost surprised when the hole he was burning into the plane fell into the darkness below him. It hit the floor below with a satisfying clang.

* * *

Xander got dressed again – it wouldn't do to meet Captain America clad only in his boxers, even if said Captain would never remember it. He then set up the winch and used the remote control to lower himself and his tools (tied to a stretcher) into the dark chasm beneath him. And that was where Xander realized he'd forgotten to pack his flashlight. It was dark in the buried plane. A shaft of sunlight came down from the hole but everything else was shrouded in shadow. He made his way carefully over to one of the posts and sat down with his back to the hole he'd just cut.

It took a few minutes but his night vision slowly took hold and he could make out details that told him where in the plane he was (the cockpit was to his left) and also that the plane had miraculously survived rather intact. He got to his feet and started walking to the cockpit. He stepped around the hole that the Tesseract had melted in the floor of the plane. He briefly wondered how it hadn't just melted its way to the Earth's core if it could melt through metal like that. Then again, if it could do that, how had anything held it?

Xander shook off thoughts better left for Stark. Probably Tony Stark as Steve's friend Howard Stark was long since dead.

There, near the controls, was the frozen Capsicle. Ice had apparently melted from the friction of the crash and splashed into the plane through the broken windows where it had flash frozen there. Which also closed the hole in the windows and meant that Xander didn't have to cut through another hundred yards of ice to get to the captain. Xander didn't know what kind of gods to thank for that kind of luck.

Xander revved up the chainsaw once again and slowly and carefully cut around Captain America's icy prison. Luckily by this time, Xander had lots of practice cutting ice with his chainsaw and didn't cut off anything the captain was going to miss.

Unfortunately, the captain was not in a nice, straight position. He had been sitting at the controls of a plane and had hunched over more with the impact. Xander dragged the freed block of ice over to his stretcher. Steve didn't fit on it like he'd hoped. In fact, as Xander looked up, he didn't think the oblong soldier was going to make it through his hole. Xander attached himself to his winch and activated the controls.

Topside, Xander set to work widening his hole to make it big enough to get the captain out. When the metal fell, he watched in horror as it narrowly missed shattering Captain America to bits. Xander decided to rest a bit and get a bite to eat before finishing. He couldn't afford any more mistakes like that and the captain wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Refreshed and re-energized, Xander lowered himself back into the pit. He secured the captain to the stretcher, then attached it to the winch. He climbed aboard himself and hit the button. The ride up was significantly slower with an extra, frozen, body. As he got to the top, he stopped the winch and pulled himself out first. Then he raised the iceman a bit more until he could reach in and pull the head of the stretcher out. After that, he let the winch do the rest of the work and he simply guided the body up and into the sun.

Xander secured him to the top of the cat before lowering himself back into the hole for his tools. After he packed those away, he checked on Captain America and found another problem. There is no shade on the icepack. Rather, sunlight bounces off of the snow to hit you from every angle. Sunlight and the warmish temperatures were combining to melt his Capsicle faster than he had intended. He hastened to get everything secure, covered the captain with a tarp, and took off at a careful pace back towards the only other point on his GPS.

* * *

_Three days,_ Xander thought to himself. It had taken three days to reach the captain's plane and it wasn't looking like it was going to go any faster on the way back. A new fissure had opened up where none had been before. He could clearly see where his tracks were. And now they were broken by a gaping chasm.

Xander got out, stretched his legs, and checked on the icicle on the roof of his machine. Covered by a tarp, it was melting slower, but still melting. He'd never make it back to shore at this rate, much less in time to get picked up.

He unzipped to relieve himself. A deep, yellowish hole in the ice was his reward when he finished. And suddenly his brain cells were working.

The problem with thawing someone who's been frozen (apart from crystallization, which the cap avoided) is that they don't thaw evenly. The outer cells thaw first, and by the time the brain and the heart are thawed and ready to pump blood, half the cells in the body are dead from lack of oxygen. Not to mention the difficulty in thawing the brain and the heart at the same time. So that neither die waiting for the other to start.

* * *

Fortunately Xander had something that could be described as a rudimentary plan for this. He'd been experimented on (slightly differently than Captain America had) during this past year and gotten some fish DNA introduced into his system. He also knew that some fish were able to survive being frozen and thawed with no ill effects. So he set up a blood transfusion. He was pretty sure it was safe as they both had the same blood type.

He placed the captain in the tub and turned on the hot water. He turned the temp down, and back up again until he found a temperature that wouldn't leave Captain America with third degree burns after he woke up. He kept Steve's head out of the water for now as that would probably defrost too fast due to being smaller than his chest.

Steve's legs started to warm up first. Xander inserted his output needle to first one, then the other leg. He then massaged them both to get the blood flowing. He then moved up his legs and added his blood to Steve's thighs. Xander kept moving where the blood was going and massaging each area to keep blood flowing. He also went back to thawed areas again and again to give them fresh blood. The tub looked like a murder scene with the blood dripping out of the needle between injections splashing everywhere. Finally, Xander injected Rogers right in the neck. Into the carotid artery and then the jugular vein. One would take his blood straight to the brain and the other would take it straight to the heart. Xander said a prayer to whatever god was listening as he massaged the other man's neck.

Thump-thump.

Thump-thump.

It was faint. But that was a pulse Xander felt in the hero's neck!

And that was a cough.

_Oh god, he's coughing up blood._ Xander thought as blood dribbled out of the man's mouth and then splattered on the walls of the tub/shower with the next cough. Freezing of the moisture in his lungs had left said lungs in rather rough shape.

Xander wasn't sure what to do but he did pull out his transfusion needle, spraying blood everywhere before he remembered to pull the other needle out of his own arm.

By the time he had the bleeding stopped on Captain Roger's neck and his own arm, the coughing had subsided.

Xander pulled the plug on the tub, but kept the shower's hot water running for now. The added heat would probably help the Captain and he also used it to splash water around to wash all the blood down the drain.

Xander turned off the water. He bent his knees to lift the other man and swayed with the effort. _What happened? I lifted him earlier? Oh, yeah. Then I donated a couple pints..._ were the last thoughts of Xander Harris before he passed out.

* * *

"Hey. Xander." the words were rather insistent even if they were whispered. But they weren't yelling and no one was shaking him so he safely ignored him.

"Xander." Again. _Leave me alone._

"Xander. Wake up." Where had he heard that voice before?

"Xander." Stronger this time. No longer whispered.

Xander opened a bleary eye. There, standing over him was Captain America. Oh good, he was still dreaming, he could could go back to sleep.

"Xander!" This time he sounded rather disappointed.

Things came rushing back rather fast. The plane, the snow, the revival, the passing out. Xander took a sharp breath and sat up quickly. He rather wished he hadn't as his head spun to the point where he was a moment away from puking his guts out. A minute later and the tiny room finally stopped spinning.

"You good?" Steve Rogers asked.

_Steve Rogers just asked me a question! _ Xander was not above a fan-girl squee, as long as he kept it inside. "I think so. How did you know my name?" the question occurred to him.

"To be honest, I'm kind of hoping I'm still dreaming if even half the things I saw in your memories are true. But since you're here and you found me in that huge ice sheet, I'm going to guess that you got a few memories of mine as well." A pause. "Also, I checked your ID just to be sure." Steve flipped him his wallet.

Xander caught it easily. It was then that he noticed his arm had another piece of gauze it hadn't had before. He had used his left arm for the transfusions to keep his right arm free to move things and massage the muscles. But now his right arm and a piece of gauze taped over it too. He looked at Rogers.

"I woke up in a warm tub with you unconscious next to me and the transfusion tube between us. I could still feel most of the pokes." he rubbed his neck. "And I'm very grateful if that's what it took to revive me. I felt that returning the favor was the right thing to do."

"You mean...?"

"You've got a little Captain in you."

For the second time in an hour, Xander Harris fainted. As he lay on the ground, his knee spasmed and came up to his waist.

* * *

A/N: I'm not sure if that was Captain Morgan's slogan yet then, but I don't care. It was too funny to pass up.


End file.
